The festivities are beginning. I've finished an early morning SJC turn and I'm now on vacation. Tonight kicks off an entire weekend of The Big 5-0 Birthday activities. The cards have already begun to roll in. And the chocolate too. The carpets are cleaned (and they match the drapes) for the finale Pizza and Piano Party on Sunday evening. Here's the lineup:
Thursday PM -- Happy Hour at Local Lounge a local gay-owned place that we love hanging at.
Friday AM -- Coffee hour at Three Friends Coffee House in S.E. Portland.
Friday PM -- Dinner at the Daily Grill and then "The Iron Lady" which I've been wanting to see.
Saturday PM -- The Big Bash -- Hosted by my good friend Alan at his beautiful home. He insisted on hosting. I'm blessed.
Sunday AM -- Brunch! At Hob Nob Grille....owned by a fellow flight attendant and her husband.
Sunday PM -- Pizza and Piano Finale at our condo. I've put together a long song list, handed it to my LoverBoy, and demanding that he play his new grand piano for me. The whole evening.
And that's it. That's precisely how my 50th birthday weekend will play out. I mean, for one on his way to middle age (ahem...) it should be a grand celebration. Right?
Showing posts with label Relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Relationships. Show all posts
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Heart Day
Today is Valentine's Day. One of the holidays that I enjoy more than others. I like this time of year. The beginnings of slight pink flowers appear on trees. And the crocus are already up. And don't get me started on the lamenting of "Oh, poor me, I'm single and don't like this day blah blah blah." I don't buy into it. Your life is what you make of it. Period. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm irritated today. It's increasingly more frequent. I find myself less connected to Mother Earth today than I was even, say, ten years ago. I find that nasty people, irresponsible causes, and stupidity find themselves in my mind more than they should. And that I don't put up with them as much as I should.
Valentine's Day. Today is the day that I was due. Well, more accurately, today is the day that my mother was due with me. But clearly, I needed five more days of sweetening up. And perhaps could have used even more. I feel less enchanted with my life today than I have for a while. I feel a nearly overwhelming need to recenter, rebalance. And to stick close to home. I'm almost in a frenzy to create peace in the dark spots of my heart and mind. It's unsettling.
Today hubby comes home from yet another workweek in Seattle. I've made Valentine's Day dinner reservations at a neighborhood place that we have never been to. It comes with rave reviews. Tomorrow our carpets are being cleaned. Did you know that the "Chem Dry" carpet cleaning systems are actually not chemical-based at all? Me either. They operate without chemicals with a carbonation system -- sort of like putting club soda on a stain to get it out. Same principle. We're trying to get the place in shape for the big birthday weekend coming up. And to celebrate the President's as well.... it is their holiday too.
I remember spending Valentine's Day 2004 in Amsterdam with LoverBoy and my parents. We stayed at a five star hotel right in the center of Amsterdam....Dam Square. It was more than lovely. And I remember Valentine's Day 1994 when I received a phone call at work from my mother. My father had been taken to the hospital. He died 35 days later.
We have a new printer....an Epson Workforce 645.....a real gem. I love it. Fits nicely where it needs to in our tiny condo. Works well. Wireless. And with E-Print (or Air Print??) meaning that I can email any document I want to -- from anywhere in the world -- and it will print on my home printer. And only $99. Our taxes were done last Friday....cha' ching. Combine the tax refund with our employer's profit sharing dollars, and we should be sitting pretty on the last day of February or so. That is, until we spend it. But it'll feel good for a day or two.
Sorry kids I'm all over the map today. My lower back is aching worse than it has in a year or more. So much so that I can't even get my socks on without a ton of pain. Moving quite slowly and carefully. but today is better than yesterday so that's good. Wishing you all a happy heart day.
Valentine's Day. Today is the day that I was due. Well, more accurately, today is the day that my mother was due with me. But clearly, I needed five more days of sweetening up. And perhaps could have used even more. I feel less enchanted with my life today than I have for a while. I feel a nearly overwhelming need to recenter, rebalance. And to stick close to home. I'm almost in a frenzy to create peace in the dark spots of my heart and mind. It's unsettling.
Today hubby comes home from yet another workweek in Seattle. I've made Valentine's Day dinner reservations at a neighborhood place that we have never been to. It comes with rave reviews. Tomorrow our carpets are being cleaned. Did you know that the "Chem Dry" carpet cleaning systems are actually not chemical-based at all? Me either. They operate without chemicals with a carbonation system -- sort of like putting club soda on a stain to get it out. Same principle. We're trying to get the place in shape for the big birthday weekend coming up. And to celebrate the President's as well.... it is their holiday too.
I remember spending Valentine's Day 2004 in Amsterdam with LoverBoy and my parents. We stayed at a five star hotel right in the center of Amsterdam....Dam Square. It was more than lovely. And I remember Valentine's Day 1994 when I received a phone call at work from my mother. My father had been taken to the hospital. He died 35 days later.
We have a new printer....an Epson Workforce 645.....a real gem. I love it. Fits nicely where it needs to in our tiny condo. Works well. Wireless. And with E-Print (or Air Print??) meaning that I can email any document I want to -- from anywhere in the world -- and it will print on my home printer. And only $99. Our taxes were done last Friday....cha' ching. Combine the tax refund with our employer's profit sharing dollars, and we should be sitting pretty on the last day of February or so. That is, until we spend it. But it'll feel good for a day or two.
Sorry kids I'm all over the map today. My lower back is aching worse than it has in a year or more. So much so that I can't even get my socks on without a ton of pain. Moving quite slowly and carefully. but today is better than yesterday so that's good. Wishing you all a happy heart day.
Thursday, February 09, 2012
The Letter
So, here's the deal.....I've spent a good portion of my last year helping design a project for my employer. Flight Path Debrief for Flight Attendants. I've mentioned it more than once here. Honest to god, hundreds of hours. All last summer spent in an office in Seattle. Several hundred ideas, suggestions, "spaghetti on the wall" as we've called it -- tossing out ideas and thoughts and what may or may not work. It's mandatory training. The morning portion is all-employee -- 150 employees from all work groups. The afternoon sessions are broken out into one's own division....mine being Flight Attendants. And it's the afternoon Flight Attendant piece that I've helped design and am now an occasional facilitator.
It's playing out very, very well. There have been a lot of laughs and plenty of tears as we FAs learn things about other areas of our company. Things we don't typically know or are a part of. There are some parts that are introspective....from both a professional and personal level. Examination. Looking inside. I like it when people are functioning at their best as human beings. And that's where this program is designed to take us. It's part historical. Part motivational. And there is this little section that we've called "The Letter." It's no longer being used. But we tested it with a wide variety of test groups for many months. We modified it, changed it, softened it, soothed it. We changed our facilitator notes and what direction it was that we wanted FAs to "go" in their minds and hearts. Honestly, it was a great piece. A prodding piece. A poking piece. Made to make us think, consider. And I like that kind of thing -- that keeps me well rounded, thinking, using my head, and propels me forward. But clearly not all FAs like that sort of thing. I've already made it clear that we are an unusual group. Set in our ways, don't like change, demand flexibility, picky, get irritated by things like "I'll have a black coffee." Only to be met three rows later with a wave of the hand and a "I'll need a cream and four sugars." Those things continue to confound the wise. We exist in a world of shallow talk and chit chat with passengers. Nothing overly indepth. Surface.
So when a piece like "The Letter" is presented, we're taken aback. Shocked. Surprised. Which is exactly what the piece was designed to do. But it was intended to lead us in a positive direction. Not a negative direction. The section played out quite powerfully in a positive way to most. "Life changing, powerful, really made me consider, etc" are a few of the comments. But then there is this group of folks who are stuck. In the past. With what has happened to them over the years. The victims. With having been down this "company kool aid" trail before. They don't like management. They don't like people with good attitudes. They don't like coworkers who are friendly or go out of their way to help others. They live with an "Us" and "Them" mentality. And for those folks, the letter incited rage. Upset. Anger. Two wild extremes depending upon the type of person The Letter was presented to.
The Letter was a fake letter which explained that our company had been purchased by an investor. Assets were to be liquidated. Employees could reapply if they cared to. No one's jobs were preserved. It said nothing about "You're fired" or "You're a bad employee." But, you see, that's how we FAs work. We think we know better. We exist in a land of rumors and half-truths. We are not well connected to an accurate line of information. The funny thing is that about 95% of the negative comments came from those who had not even attended the program yet. Rumors. What they thought they knew. What they had heard from others. That's what they based their reactions on. And that I do not respect nor place any value on.
Really? Seriously? You haven't even experienced it yet and you're already red faced and irritated? Is that really the type of human being you are? Umm humm. It is. The Letter was designed to encourage a "What Would You Do" sort of dialog. What would you do tomorrow if this happened to you today? Who would you tell first? Do you have a plan? Are you prepared? It was to encourage ideas and thoughts from others. To help us get ourselves in line if we are ever purchased, or merged, or or or.
So, I made a Facebook entry the other night saying that I was facilitating Flight Path the following day and how excited I was to do so. My first and only comment was from a coworker who has never once made a comment on my FB page. But with regard to this, she did. I didn't like the comment, felt it rude and inappropriate for someone else to be making on MY page with MY excitement about the following day. Most of us would never do that. But that's the way she works. I removed it and messaged her to tell her why I had done it. Here is the dialog:
ME: Hi there. I removed your comment about the "Stupid Firing Letter." I felt it personally offensive. I helped develop the Flight Path program. I'm 100% invested in it. And it's tough to hear those sorts of half-cocked, uninformed comments from those who haven't even been to the program yet. I'm more than happy to chat anytime about the letter or anything else in the program. The letter had nothing to do with being fired. That's what rumors do for our lives. They create an unbalance, unfair, air of negativity that is not based on truth. Let me know if you have any questions.
HER: You weren't here in 85 when I received an unfair, negative letter to come back to work or I WAS fired.Unchanged in my opinion and what seems to be the same of an overwhelming majority of people that have gone to your mandatory program,Also a letter from our CEO (Bruce Kennedy)that we were all a bunch of ingrates and we were lucky to have a job instead of a Christmas card or bonus.You say I'm uninformed but maybe it was ____ and your team that were uninformed about how touchy this letter would be.I've run this idea by family friends that run corporations and they were appalled at this idea of trying making an employee feel grateful for their job by "picturing their life without this job. "So I feel your attack is personally offensive, as well-Respectively yours-
"Respectively yours"? Really? So, I went to bed. I tossed and turned. Upset. By her blue-collar bully ignorance. The uninformed who think they know it all. Those who actually know 10% but speak like they know 110%. And she continued to message me because I was in bed and failed to respond to her as quickly as she thought I should have:
HER: Nothing?Would you like me to form it in a question? It's obvious that you have gotten alot of heat for this but do you honestly feel that none of the negative feedback is valid?
The Letter section has been changed. Redeveloped. And it is working just fine. Good dialog. Good discussion. But definitely lacks the punch and power of The Letter. It was just way too far to ask some folks to travel in their heads. They just couldn't do it. Most of us could, a vocal minority could not.
So that's how my week's gone. How about yours?
It's playing out very, very well. There have been a lot of laughs and plenty of tears as we FAs learn things about other areas of our company. Things we don't typically know or are a part of. There are some parts that are introspective....from both a professional and personal level. Examination. Looking inside. I like it when people are functioning at their best as human beings. And that's where this program is designed to take us. It's part historical. Part motivational. And there is this little section that we've called "The Letter." It's no longer being used. But we tested it with a wide variety of test groups for many months. We modified it, changed it, softened it, soothed it. We changed our facilitator notes and what direction it was that we wanted FAs to "go" in their minds and hearts. Honestly, it was a great piece. A prodding piece. A poking piece. Made to make us think, consider. And I like that kind of thing -- that keeps me well rounded, thinking, using my head, and propels me forward. But clearly not all FAs like that sort of thing. I've already made it clear that we are an unusual group. Set in our ways, don't like change, demand flexibility, picky, get irritated by things like "I'll have a black coffee." Only to be met three rows later with a wave of the hand and a "I'll need a cream and four sugars." Those things continue to confound the wise. We exist in a world of shallow talk and chit chat with passengers. Nothing overly indepth. Surface.
So when a piece like "The Letter" is presented, we're taken aback. Shocked. Surprised. Which is exactly what the piece was designed to do. But it was intended to lead us in a positive direction. Not a negative direction. The section played out quite powerfully in a positive way to most. "Life changing, powerful, really made me consider, etc" are a few of the comments. But then there is this group of folks who are stuck. In the past. With what has happened to them over the years. The victims. With having been down this "company kool aid" trail before. They don't like management. They don't like people with good attitudes. They don't like coworkers who are friendly or go out of their way to help others. They live with an "Us" and "Them" mentality. And for those folks, the letter incited rage. Upset. Anger. Two wild extremes depending upon the type of person The Letter was presented to.
The Letter was a fake letter which explained that our company had been purchased by an investor. Assets were to be liquidated. Employees could reapply if they cared to. No one's jobs were preserved. It said nothing about "You're fired" or "You're a bad employee." But, you see, that's how we FAs work. We think we know better. We exist in a land of rumors and half-truths. We are not well connected to an accurate line of information. The funny thing is that about 95% of the negative comments came from those who had not even attended the program yet. Rumors. What they thought they knew. What they had heard from others. That's what they based their reactions on. And that I do not respect nor place any value on.
Really? Seriously? You haven't even experienced it yet and you're already red faced and irritated? Is that really the type of human being you are? Umm humm. It is. The Letter was designed to encourage a "What Would You Do" sort of dialog. What would you do tomorrow if this happened to you today? Who would you tell first? Do you have a plan? Are you prepared? It was to encourage ideas and thoughts from others. To help us get ourselves in line if we are ever purchased, or merged, or or or.
So, I made a Facebook entry the other night saying that I was facilitating Flight Path the following day and how excited I was to do so. My first and only comment was from a coworker who has never once made a comment on my FB page. But with regard to this, she did. I didn't like the comment, felt it rude and inappropriate for someone else to be making on MY page with MY excitement about the following day. Most of us would never do that. But that's the way she works. I removed it and messaged her to tell her why I had done it. Here is the dialog:
ME: Hi there. I removed your comment about the "Stupid Firing Letter." I felt it personally offensive. I helped develop the Flight Path program. I'm 100% invested in it. And it's tough to hear those sorts of half-cocked, uninformed comments from those who haven't even been to the program yet. I'm more than happy to chat anytime about the letter or anything else in the program. The letter had nothing to do with being fired. That's what rumors do for our lives. They create an unbalance, unfair, air of negativity that is not based on truth. Let me know if you have any questions.
HER: You weren't here in 85 when I received an unfair, negative letter to come back to work or I WAS fired.Unchanged in my opinion and what seems to be the same of an overwhelming majority of people that have gone to your mandatory program,Also a letter from our CEO (Bruce Kennedy)that we were all a bunch of ingrates and we were lucky to have a job instead of a Christmas card or bonus.You say I'm uninformed but maybe it was ____ and your team that were uninformed about how touchy this letter would be.I've run this idea by family friends that run corporations and they were appalled at this idea of trying making an employee feel grateful for their job by "picturing their life without this job. "So I feel your attack is personally offensive, as well-Respectively yours-
"Respectively yours"? Really? So, I went to bed. I tossed and turned. Upset. By her blue-collar bully ignorance. The uninformed who think they know it all. Those who actually know 10% but speak like they know 110%. And she continued to message me because I was in bed and failed to respond to her as quickly as she thought I should have:
HER: Nothing?Would you like me to form it in a question? It's obvious that you have gotten alot of heat for this but do you honestly feel that none of the negative feedback is valid?
The Letter section has been changed. Redeveloped. And it is working just fine. Good dialog. Good discussion. But definitely lacks the punch and power of The Letter. It was just way too far to ask some folks to travel in their heads. They just couldn't do it. Most of us could, a vocal minority could not.
So that's how my week's gone. How about yours?
Friday, January 27, 2012
John Boehner's Crybaby Alien Lives In Me
You knew that I was related to John Boehner, right? I think we are cousins. Distant, far removed cousins perhaps. But all kidding aside, I swear to god that we must have the same genes or DNA tucked away deep inside somewhere. He has taken heat for the way in which our common thread of DNA manifests itself in his life. So have I. You see, we are both crybabies. I don't know about him but I'd venture to guess that I get tears in my eyes on almost a daily basis. Maybe every other day or two if I remain 100% out of human contact, don't watch any TV or TV commercials, and stay off of the Internet. Oh, one more thing....if I avoid conversation with my mother. She always makes me cry when she closes nearly every phone conversation with, "Arnie, you know I love you....I really do. I'm so proud of you...." Lordy. I'm a mess.
I see an animal rescue site with sappy music playing and I lose it. Although, admittedly, Sarah McLachlan doesn't have quite the hold on me that she once did thanks to seeing those commercials for so many years. So there. See, I'm a big boy. I see stories of soldiers returning home from war and sneaking into their children's school classrooms to surprise them and my throat closes up. Or a homeless woman on a street corner who is will into her 70s or even 80s -- and she shares the same name as my very own mother. My heart goes out. Or perhaps I get into a conversation about any one of life's many difficulties with someone -- how they, or I, want to be a better human being than I am today. Umm, yeah, don't expect me not to cry at that either. Or I see an adult who you would suppose would have their act together by this point in their life -- but they don't. Alcohol or drugs still have a stronghold on their ability to be a good parent, son, daughter, etc. I think of my own experiences and how these sorts of situations strike awfully close to home. Or I watch the resignation of Congresswoman Gabby Giffords as she hobbles with every bit of might she has up to John Boehner to submit her written letter of resignation. John cries. I sob.
Man oh man, John Boehner's sobbing crybaby spirit lives within me. Sort of like an alien. Who cries. An alien who cries. Yeah, that's it.
I see an animal rescue site with sappy music playing and I lose it. Although, admittedly, Sarah McLachlan doesn't have quite the hold on me that she once did thanks to seeing those commercials for so many years. So there. See, I'm a big boy. I see stories of soldiers returning home from war and sneaking into their children's school classrooms to surprise them and my throat closes up. Or a homeless woman on a street corner who is will into her 70s or even 80s -- and she shares the same name as my very own mother. My heart goes out. Or perhaps I get into a conversation about any one of life's many difficulties with someone -- how they, or I, want to be a better human being than I am today. Umm, yeah, don't expect me not to cry at that either. Or I see an adult who you would suppose would have their act together by this point in their life -- but they don't. Alcohol or drugs still have a stronghold on their ability to be a good parent, son, daughter, etc. I think of my own experiences and how these sorts of situations strike awfully close to home. Or I watch the resignation of Congresswoman Gabby Giffords as she hobbles with every bit of might she has up to John Boehner to submit her written letter of resignation. John cries. I sob.
Man oh man, John Boehner's sobbing crybaby spirit lives within me. Sort of like an alien. Who cries. An alien who cries. Yeah, that's it.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Peculiarity
He tells me that I'm peculiar. And that I use weird words. And phrases. And I tell him that he could be married to an ax murderer serial killer. Or Newt Gingrich or Rick Santorum or Rick Perry. So there.
He laughs and giggles at me when I use certain words. He'll make me "Say it Again." And then we both laugh. And now that I'm completely familiar with the words that I know will set him off, I take my time saying them. Really drrraaawww them out. Emphasize them and make them worth the laughing. For some of the words, it's that I use them at all. For other words, it's the emphasis or accent I put on them, apparently. Words and phrases like:
Just normal, old, everyday words that everyone uses from time to time. I suppose I caught the weird word and pronunciation disease from my mom or something. Or perhaps I do it now just to give us something to laugh about. You do that in old age, you know. Weird things. Funky things that nobody else does....or would ever do. And the longer you've been together, the longer the list is of things that go on just between the two of you. And that's peculiar too.
He laughs and giggles at me when I use certain words. He'll make me "Say it Again." And then we both laugh. And now that I'm completely familiar with the words that I know will set him off, I take my time saying them. Really drrraaawww them out. Emphasize them and make them worth the laughing. For some of the words, it's that I use them at all. For other words, it's the emphasis or accent I put on them, apparently. Words and phrases like:
Crisps (It's the ending "P" and "S")
Residual (who else in god's name uses this word??!!)
Liquid
Potato or Taco Bar
Rolls (as in bread or rolls...maybe I spend too much time on the "oolll" part)
Meal (instead of using the word food...maybe I draw out the "ea" part).
Just normal, old, everyday words that everyone uses from time to time. I suppose I caught the weird word and pronunciation disease from my mom or something. Or perhaps I do it now just to give us something to laugh about. You do that in old age, you know. Weird things. Funky things that nobody else does....or would ever do. And the longer you've been together, the longer the list is of things that go on just between the two of you. And that's peculiar too.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
While He's Under the Weather.....
As long as he is down and out and recovering from his shock wave lithotripsy, I thought I'd go ahead and take full advantage of his drug-induced inebriation. To make fun of him. He knows that I'm going to. But perhaps the drugs will keep him from remembering that I am going to.
Yesterday while he was waiting for the anesthesiologist to come in and shoot him full of la-la drugs, he used the word clairvoyant. Which is fine except that he used it in some weird, inaccurate way. He does that. Frequently. Well, perhaps regularly is the more accurate word. He gets so close. And yet so far. I don't even remember how the word clairvoyant was used yesterday except that it caused us both to laugh so hard I'm sure the nurses wondered what was going on in room #24. And then we go off on some twisted sort of tangent making up phrases and words and meanings.
He'll get names messed up -- maybe he'll stay "I talked to our neighbor Mark" when the guy's name is Mike. One of his favorites is, "Boy is that house ever dilapiTated." Years this has gone on. I keep on saying, "It's dilapiDated." And one that comes into play frequently (because I'm a crybaby) is "Are your eyes welTing up with tears again?" When he knows full well that it is "welling."
But this clairvoyant thing. Man oh man, what was it....??? I just can't remember what it was the other day while he waited for the dude to come and knock him out. Whatever it was, my eyes welted up with tears in that dilapitated hospital room.
Yesterday while he was waiting for the anesthesiologist to come in and shoot him full of la-la drugs, he used the word clairvoyant. Which is fine except that he used it in some weird, inaccurate way. He does that. Frequently. Well, perhaps regularly is the more accurate word. He gets so close. And yet so far. I don't even remember how the word clairvoyant was used yesterday except that it caused us both to laugh so hard I'm sure the nurses wondered what was going on in room #24. And then we go off on some twisted sort of tangent making up phrases and words and meanings.
He'll get names messed up -- maybe he'll stay "I talked to our neighbor Mark" when the guy's name is Mike. One of his favorites is, "Boy is that house ever dilapiTated." Years this has gone on. I keep on saying, "It's dilapiDated." And one that comes into play frequently (because I'm a crybaby) is "Are your eyes welTing up with tears again?" When he knows full well that it is "welling."
But this clairvoyant thing. Man oh man, what was it....??? I just can't remember what it was the other day while he waited for the dude to come and knock him out. Whatever it was, my eyes welted up with tears in that dilapitated hospital room.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Merry Christmas
- Chains shall he break for the slave is our brother....
- And in his name all oppression shall cease....
- I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I don't care about your personal religious beliefs or lack thereof. I gather my inspiration and motivation from a wide variety of places, sources and people. But I do try to remember that the slave is our brother. And that in the name of peace all oppression shall cease.
- Nearly every day of my almost 50 years on this planet I am confronted with the stark shortcomings of my humanity. I come face to face with the fact that I am not perfect and that the world we live in is a mess. I know full well that my goals for the year 2011 have failed -- and that the goals from the past year will probably be the same for the coming year. I'm a work in progress....it's far more a journey than a destination. None of that can be an excuse to continue to not strive for something better, greater. Something peaceful. Without destruction. Something sustainable.
- Be nice to one another. No matter what. There is never an excuse to be unkind.
- Merry Christmas.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Side-by-Side Lives
Ugly live up on the inside. Ugly be a hurtful, mean person. Is you one a them peoples?
Impact. Powerful. Tossed around without regard like dust in the air sometimes, those words are. I am in the middle of reading The Help. But somehow it happened that Saturday evening was a good time for us to go and see the movie....which I've been waiting for months to see. This is just my kind'a story. Personal. Compelling. The actual stories of people's lives. Yours and mine. They do have merit, you know.....the stories of our lives.
But one of the things that occurred to me during the movie is the side-by-side lives lived by the folks portrayed in the case. The parallel lives. The many pieces of the lives that occurred with each individual over the years that happened in conjunction with one other. The Help would many times stay with the same white family for years. Many years....oh say 40 or more years. The Help would live their own path and life during this 40 years. And the white family that they worked for would also live their own life during this same 40 years. Two distinct, varied, very different paths over the same length of time -- running parallel to one another. Children would come and go, news stories would pass, times would change, political relevance would rise and fall, social interaction would lumber on. And as individual as these paths are, they are intertwined in so many ways.
Ever morning, until you dead in the ground, you gone have to make this decision. You gone have to ask yourself, "Am I gone believe what them fools say about me today?"
And the fact that this story took place right here under our noses in the US of A really hits home with me. Perhaps I should say takes place, present tense. Because it does. No matter the laws of the land or the regulations in place the dark hearts of the people are difficult to assimilate into the new ages. Things don't change inside of a person's soul because a political figure tells them to. I'm ashamed to know that in my lifetime there is hatred for who people are -- not what they have necessarily done or how they've behaved...that's a whole other matter. But for who they are. That it takes place in the most powerful nation on earth really irritates me. Confuses me. On how we could have ever allowed it to happen. Whatever it was that prompted white people to actually believe that they could catch colored diseases from the colored people. And everyone believed it at the time. And it continues to happen in so many ways even today. We've got a long, long way to go. My friend Matt said recently "I think we need to come together on social issues at their core.... Create real social solidarity not this fake wave a flag on flag day and temporary love for all other Americans during a time of crisis, but real solidarity." He's right on.
Another piece of this story that hit home with me is how the person who steps out of their comfort zone and stands up for others is the person that should lead this world. The one who sees a wrong and wants to make it right. The one who sees the underling being beaten down and berated and wants to do whatever it takes to stand with them. Every family, every period of time in our globe's history, has one or two of those people. The ones who refuse to accept for fact what is told to them. What is shoved down their throat. What is simply assumed to be reality. The person says, "No," and then goes about making it right. Do you stand up for the underdog, the one who is treated poorly, the one who needs a comrade? I try to.
All I'm saying is, kindness don't have no boundaries.
The stories of our lives are powerful. I think I said that in the opening paragraph. And they are. They are, after all, our stories, our lives. No one else's. They may not mean much to anyone else. But they mean the world to us. And in just the right time, the right place, and when the moment is tender and available, the stories of our lives fit perfectly into the life of someone else. They enter someone else's heart, or mind. They meld and blend. You can see it on the face of the other person. They suddenly morph from a blank look of nothingness into a land where the two get it....they know one another .... they understand one another. The point at which the stories of two people's lives intersect is one of the most influential points during our short years on this planet.
Monday, July 25, 2011
A Story of Transformation
The story of transformation is powerful. Progressing from our past into our future. From what we used to be into what we are now....or what we can become tomorrow. Leaving behind old things, things that are worn out and no longer need to be a part of our lives......and moving ahead into the new.
Being open, honest, and making one’s self available to change is a moment in our lives that won’t soon be forgotten. The very blip of time in which we signal to ourselves that it’s okay to be different....better....than yesterday. The moment in our lives that we realize how our former attitudes sucked the life out of us and that the old way of doing business was leading us down a road that led to nowhere.
Yes, there is something quite powerful about that split-second of time in each one of our lives when it all comes together in our heads.....and when our heads align with our hearts. It is then....only then....that we can move forward. Until then, we are bogged down....backwards.....even fighting a dark sort of internal battle. And after that, we begin to feel better. Happier. Like a weight has been lifted. We’ve all been there. And we’ll probably be there again. But looking for....actually even expecting.....those moments creates an atmosphere of possibility. That there may actually be hope for us. For tomorrow. That there is at least the most remote chance that we don’t have to continue to react the same way we always have. That we don’t have to be the same person that we’ve become quite comfortable being.
The story of change seems to give us permission to say NO to the old and YES to the new. It’s so easy to get complacent....and used to....having the same reactions to past troubles rather than to have fresh new responses to each day. No, I haven’t arrived. Nor do I honestly expect to. But the road looks differently than it used to. It feels better. And I’m glad that I’m on this path, on this journey, rather than on one of the many others that I could be walking.
I can’t imagine getting to the end of this thing we call life and having made the same choices at age 80 that I made at age 18. I think it’s time to refuse to play games that just can’t be won and to instead focus our energies on a more positive time of life. A time of life that points back to the old days and the less-than-stellar choices -- and points ahead to living the second part of my life differently. More honestly. More in balance. Treating others better than I have in my past. And giving myself permission to add to this world rather than take away from it.
Being open, honest, and making one’s self available to change is a moment in our lives that won’t soon be forgotten. The very blip of time in which we signal to ourselves that it’s okay to be different....better....than yesterday. The moment in our lives that we realize how our former attitudes sucked the life out of us and that the old way of doing business was leading us down a road that led to nowhere.
Yes, there is something quite powerful about that split-second of time in each one of our lives when it all comes together in our heads.....and when our heads align with our hearts. It is then....only then....that we can move forward. Until then, we are bogged down....backwards.....even fighting a dark sort of internal battle. And after that, we begin to feel better. Happier. Like a weight has been lifted. We’ve all been there. And we’ll probably be there again. But looking for....actually even expecting.....those moments creates an atmosphere of possibility. That there may actually be hope for us. For tomorrow. That there is at least the most remote chance that we don’t have to continue to react the same way we always have. That we don’t have to be the same person that we’ve become quite comfortable being.
The story of change seems to give us permission to say NO to the old and YES to the new. It’s so easy to get complacent....and used to....having the same reactions to past troubles rather than to have fresh new responses to each day. No, I haven’t arrived. Nor do I honestly expect to. But the road looks differently than it used to. It feels better. And I’m glad that I’m on this path, on this journey, rather than on one of the many others that I could be walking.
I can’t imagine getting to the end of this thing we call life and having made the same choices at age 80 that I made at age 18. I think it’s time to refuse to play games that just can’t be won and to instead focus our energies on a more positive time of life. A time of life that points back to the old days and the less-than-stellar choices -- and points ahead to living the second part of my life differently. More honestly. More in balance. Treating others better than I have in my past. And giving myself permission to add to this world rather than take away from it.
Monday, June 06, 2011
And So Begins June......
Summertime......ugh, maybe, wait for it, perhaps....is it here? Perhaps. We had two days of 80 or more over the weekend....first time since last August. It felt quite good, the warmth on the skin. We ventured 100 miles east of Portland up the historic Columbia River Gorge to camp for one night with our buddies who had traveled from Idaho. They graciously opened up their fifth wheel trailer and allowed us to stay with them. It made camping so so so much easier. We stayed right down on the Columbia River at Maryhill State Park on the Washington side of the river. The river is at it's peak flow right now....super high, super fast because of snow melt and spring rains. The cliffs above the river there are sheer rock, straight up to the farm fields up on top. I suppose they were formed a zillion years ago during an ice age sheering off of sorts or something along those lines. Needless to say, it is some seriously amazing country to enjoy.
I had the opportunity to sit in on one of the most exciting meetings ever at work recently. A meeting that our airline's Maintenance and Engineering Departments holds every single morning, seven days a week, at 8am. The room was filled with about 20 folks who are in charge of our airplanes, maintenance, broken aircraft, engines, parts, mechanical issues, etc. In addition, there were maintenance heads from all over the country on the conference call. It was flawless, speedy, and proceeded like a well-oiled machine as they spoke about this aircraft, that broken plane, this part, that issue, this particular heavy check, etc. I couldn't believe how hands-on and intricate they were. Spot on. Didn't miss a beat. And clearly had the airline's best interest in mind -- getting the aircraft back in the air, safety and professionally. I'm sure my head was spinning in circles as I listened and watched them. It was so cool.
I've pissed off some very good friends of ours. No surprise, is it....Me pissing off people?? My strong opinions and mouth to go with it don't always bode well for others. I'm aware of that. I own that. I can handle that. But, still, pissing off one's friends isn't the best thing to be doing. It was nothing directed at them in particular but spoke to a wider audience. I was standing up for our most junior of flight attendants and simply brought to light some issues that we have going in our work ranks right now. I believe that speaking up for what one thinks isn't quite right -- especially for those who need to be spoken up for -- is the right thing to do. I'm sure that the phrase "It wasn't what you said but how you said it" could easily apply here. Point is that we are all entitled to our own opinions, viewpoints and such. We should make those judgments professionally with a well-rounded and balanced approach. No one else has to agree with us. And we should feel good about that. So now I'm moving on to my stomping out brush fires duty. Man oh man, I've got a lot to learn.
Next week is Portland Pride. My sister is coming over from Idaho for it. It will be her very first Pride ever. And it will my very first time that my sister and I have ever marched in a Pride parade together. Excitement mounts. We're going to be super busy setting up our company's booth at the festival, helping organize the group marching in the parade, and all of that. And with any luck, we won't have torrential downpours to deal with.
Bear Week in Provincetown is coming closer, closer, closer. I have mixed feelings about it but I am going by myself this year. We had decided after last year's trip that we were probably not going to go -- financial, amount of time needed off, and several other reasons. As time went on, Hubby encouraged me to feel free to go alone if I chose to. So I am. But I'm still wondering how it will feel to be at Bear Week all by myself without him. I mean, I will be in a house with a bunch of our good friends .... but Hubby and I have created some great memories of our very own there. It's just going to feel a little different than normal. And, I have tickets to see the one and only, the world famous, Pam Ann who will be performing at Bear Week.
I had the opportunity to sit in on one of the most exciting meetings ever at work recently. A meeting that our airline's Maintenance and Engineering Departments holds every single morning, seven days a week, at 8am. The room was filled with about 20 folks who are in charge of our airplanes, maintenance, broken aircraft, engines, parts, mechanical issues, etc. In addition, there were maintenance heads from all over the country on the conference call. It was flawless, speedy, and proceeded like a well-oiled machine as they spoke about this aircraft, that broken plane, this part, that issue, this particular heavy check, etc. I couldn't believe how hands-on and intricate they were. Spot on. Didn't miss a beat. And clearly had the airline's best interest in mind -- getting the aircraft back in the air, safety and professionally. I'm sure my head was spinning in circles as I listened and watched them. It was so cool.
I've pissed off some very good friends of ours. No surprise, is it....Me pissing off people?? My strong opinions and mouth to go with it don't always bode well for others. I'm aware of that. I own that. I can handle that. But, still, pissing off one's friends isn't the best thing to be doing. It was nothing directed at them in particular but spoke to a wider audience. I was standing up for our most junior of flight attendants and simply brought to light some issues that we have going in our work ranks right now. I believe that speaking up for what one thinks isn't quite right -- especially for those who need to be spoken up for -- is the right thing to do. I'm sure that the phrase "It wasn't what you said but how you said it" could easily apply here. Point is that we are all entitled to our own opinions, viewpoints and such. We should make those judgments professionally with a well-rounded and balanced approach. No one else has to agree with us. And we should feel good about that. So now I'm moving on to my stomping out brush fires duty. Man oh man, I've got a lot to learn.
Next week is Portland Pride. My sister is coming over from Idaho for it. It will be her very first Pride ever. And it will my very first time that my sister and I have ever marched in a Pride parade together. Excitement mounts. We're going to be super busy setting up our company's booth at the festival, helping organize the group marching in the parade, and all of that. And with any luck, we won't have torrential downpours to deal with.
Bear Week in Provincetown is coming closer, closer, closer. I have mixed feelings about it but I am going by myself this year. We had decided after last year's trip that we were probably not going to go -- financial, amount of time needed off, and several other reasons. As time went on, Hubby encouraged me to feel free to go alone if I chose to. So I am. But I'm still wondering how it will feel to be at Bear Week all by myself without him. I mean, I will be in a house with a bunch of our good friends .... but Hubby and I have created some great memories of our very own there. It's just going to feel a little different than normal. And, I have tickets to see the one and only, the world famous, Pam Ann who will be performing at Bear Week.
Friday, May 13, 2011
The Depth of Human Interaction
Do you remember Lila from the movie Latter Days? She was the gracious restaurant owner played by Jacqueline Bisset. If you haven't seen the movie, you should. But the movie isn't what I'm here to chat you up about today. It goes beyond the actress, the role, the part she played. It is her spirit. The energy she exhibited. The heart she showed. How she opened up herself, her business, her life. To help the boys, others, and to make people feel good. She believed in something more, something positive, something even, perhaps, ethereal.
I think I'm drawn to that type of person because I wish I were more that way. I try to be, believe me. But I don't always succeed. Occasionally, gasp, I lose my way. I have this feeling that I will be working on it for the remainder of my life. I'm such a hard old crusty bastard sometimes. I don't think it's one of those things that will ever be fully achieved. But continually focused on for reminding myself of who I am and who I am not. It keeps me humble and god knows I could use a little of that.
My friend Rhonda is that way. A devoted, devout positive person. She cares for others. Honestly, deep down, from the core of her being. You feel good being around her. Being a flight attendant brings about those opportunities to fly with a variety of people. Some you get to know and fly with frequently. Others are more flash-in-the-pan sort of folks...you fly with them once and may never again. And some you never, ever want to fly with again. Today, I had an unexpected surprise to meet Jan. From our Los Angeles base. Jan had that big smile on her face from the moment I went down the jetway and entered the airplane. She was right on it. No drama, no negative, no ill habits, no hating of the company, no doom and gloom. She had shed it all for today, at least. She opened up her arms and gave me a hug. Now, remember, I had never seen her until that moment in time. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't have a bad attitude being around Jan. She was one of those deep souls. Not superficial. And I can spot surface, shallow BS a mile away. She had clearly experienced in her life things that created her. She had struggled and hurt and recreated her life in a way that helped make her who she is today. We chatted about marriage, past lives, our mutual time together in Boise (we actually lived in the very same apartment complex back in Idaho in the early '90s....). She laid out her life out for me to see. She was diving deep. I had to practice those skills that go deep, far beyond the borders of being nice because I'm a flight attendant. You just never know what any particular day is going to bring you.
I'm convinced that as much as people irritate me many times that I actually need these irritants to make me, remind me!, who I am. Who I am not. And who I need to be. Life is so short. And much of it is shallow. But today, I got a little depth. A little soul, and human culture. And I'm thankful.
I think I'm drawn to that type of person because I wish I were more that way. I try to be, believe me. But I don't always succeed. Occasionally, gasp, I lose my way. I have this feeling that I will be working on it for the remainder of my life. I'm such a hard old crusty bastard sometimes. I don't think it's one of those things that will ever be fully achieved. But continually focused on for reminding myself of who I am and who I am not. It keeps me humble and god knows I could use a little of that.
My friend Rhonda is that way. A devoted, devout positive person. She cares for others. Honestly, deep down, from the core of her being. You feel good being around her. Being a flight attendant brings about those opportunities to fly with a variety of people. Some you get to know and fly with frequently. Others are more flash-in-the-pan sort of folks...you fly with them once and may never again. And some you never, ever want to fly with again. Today, I had an unexpected surprise to meet Jan. From our Los Angeles base. Jan had that big smile on her face from the moment I went down the jetway and entered the airplane. She was right on it. No drama, no negative, no ill habits, no hating of the company, no doom and gloom. She had shed it all for today, at least. She opened up her arms and gave me a hug. Now, remember, I had never seen her until that moment in time. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't have a bad attitude being around Jan. She was one of those deep souls. Not superficial. And I can spot surface, shallow BS a mile away. She had clearly experienced in her life things that created her. She had struggled and hurt and recreated her life in a way that helped make her who she is today. We chatted about marriage, past lives, our mutual time together in Boise (we actually lived in the very same apartment complex back in Idaho in the early '90s....). She laid out her life out for me to see. She was diving deep. I had to practice those skills that go deep, far beyond the borders of being nice because I'm a flight attendant. You just never know what any particular day is going to bring you.
I'm convinced that as much as people irritate me many times that I actually need these irritants to make me, remind me!, who I am. Who I am not. And who I need to be. Life is so short. And much of it is shallow. But today, I got a little depth. A little soul, and human culture. And I'm thankful.
Monday, May 09, 2011
Poor Little Victim
Ahh, poor thing. Sweet poor little victim. Sniff, sniff.
It will come as no surprise to you that I'm not a huge fan of victims nor the mentality that comes with them. I believe that our world has ended up where it is today in part due to that precise thing....the Victim Mentality. I mean, hey, if you're all about feeling sorry for yourself and want to be miserable, feel free. But if you're into getting ahold of yourself, changing the way you're living, and actually have the desire to lead a different life, then I'd suggest that you check out this little list of helpful ideas. And don't bore me with little sob stories meant to capture the moment of how you are right and the rest of the world is wrong. I can assure you that I won't buy it.
I flew with a guy today who sort of made me nauseated. Nice guy for the most part. Big giant biceps. Nothing special, just a nice guy who was a victim. He's got some growing up to do. He went on an on about how "one of the customer service agents in Ontario made him get an eye infection." He blathered on about how "the company is in such a big hurry that he wiped his hand on the girt bar and reached up to scratch his eye." That gave him an eye infection. He told me about how everybody is in a hurry and he didn't have time to think about it before he actually did it. He was apparently pushed to the limit to hurry and, by god, he won't be doing it again. Harumph!
Well, you know me, I just couldn't let it go. I told him that of course the girt bar is dirty. Along with every other surface in the entire world and especially the airplane world. I don't think that it's any more infected than, say, the bathroom doorknobs or faucet handles or tray tables. I told him that I learned long ago to not bring my hands toward my face at any time, for any reason, period. Hands do not belong near the eyes, mouth or nose. My point was that it had nothing to do with the girt bar. It had everything to do with his hands scratching his eyes. He wouldn't buy it. He got pretty quiet after that.
Our world is in trouble kids. A lot of it. And I honestly believe that a good chunk of it is because of this line of thinking. The mental game that we play of blaming others, finding situations that will give us reason to behave the way we do. Pointing to parents, or churches, or organizations, or families, or alcohol, or drugs, or cigarettes, or our children, or a hospital, or or or or or or......to make us more satisfied with the victim that lives inside. I'm sick of it. And I hope you are too.
It will come as no surprise to you that I'm not a huge fan of victims nor the mentality that comes with them. I believe that our world has ended up where it is today in part due to that precise thing....the Victim Mentality. I mean, hey, if you're all about feeling sorry for yourself and want to be miserable, feel free. But if you're into getting ahold of yourself, changing the way you're living, and actually have the desire to lead a different life, then I'd suggest that you check out this little list of helpful ideas. And don't bore me with little sob stories meant to capture the moment of how you are right and the rest of the world is wrong. I can assure you that I won't buy it.
I flew with a guy today who sort of made me nauseated. Nice guy for the most part. Big giant biceps. Nothing special, just a nice guy who was a victim. He's got some growing up to do. He went on an on about how "one of the customer service agents in Ontario made him get an eye infection." He blathered on about how "the company is in such a big hurry that he wiped his hand on the girt bar and reached up to scratch his eye." That gave him an eye infection. He told me about how everybody is in a hurry and he didn't have time to think about it before he actually did it. He was apparently pushed to the limit to hurry and, by god, he won't be doing it again. Harumph!
Well, you know me, I just couldn't let it go. I told him that of course the girt bar is dirty. Along with every other surface in the entire world and especially the airplane world. I don't think that it's any more infected than, say, the bathroom doorknobs or faucet handles or tray tables. I told him that I learned long ago to not bring my hands toward my face at any time, for any reason, period. Hands do not belong near the eyes, mouth or nose. My point was that it had nothing to do with the girt bar. It had everything to do with his hands scratching his eyes. He wouldn't buy it. He got pretty quiet after that.
Our world is in trouble kids. A lot of it. And I honestly believe that a good chunk of it is because of this line of thinking. The mental game that we play of blaming others, finding situations that will give us reason to behave the way we do. Pointing to parents, or churches, or organizations, or families, or alcohol, or drugs, or cigarettes, or our children, or a hospital, or or or or or or......to make us more satisfied with the victim that lives inside. I'm sick of it. And I hope you are too.
Sunday, May 08, 2011
Listening Skills
"Do you think you're a good listener?" He asked me as we drove down Fremont Street in Northeast Portland on our way home. My hand resting on his leg. You know, whenever someone asks you that question you known full well that they aren't asking you because they think you are the most amazing, top notch listener in the entire world. My hand left his leg and migrated right back over to my own lap.
Now, I'm pretty much a straight forward sort of guy. My yes's mean that. And my no's mean that. I know my faults. I'm not in denial over much. My initial answer to his question was "No" but I discovered that wasn't quite right. Actually, more honestly, I'm a good listener. I hear you. I even understand you most of the time. My problem is patience. I have little. So, while I'm hearing you, I'm speeding up whatever you're saying to me in my own head. I'm trying to get to the end. I want the facts. Just the facts, Maam. My issue is that I want to fast forward your belabored little story, get to the end, and on to something else exciting. One of my many faults. There are others, I assure you.
Now, I'm pretty much a straight forward sort of guy. My yes's mean that. And my no's mean that. I know my faults. I'm not in denial over much. My initial answer to his question was "No" but I discovered that wasn't quite right. Actually, more honestly, I'm a good listener. I hear you. I even understand you most of the time. My problem is patience. I have little. So, while I'm hearing you, I'm speeding up whatever you're saying to me in my own head. I'm trying to get to the end. I want the facts. Just the facts, Maam. My issue is that I want to fast forward your belabored little story, get to the end, and on to something else exciting. One of my many faults. There are others, I assure you.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Trying to Keep an Open Mind
Once again, I have been reminded of the fact that we just never know what we're going to face in any given day. We have zero idea who we're going to be around, what they are going through, where they are headed, or precisely how things are going to play out.
I have met some of the nicest people in my life. Today, I had a couple of guys actually ask me how my day was going. It's not that unusual, but fairly so. They were so friendly, polite and smiling. They wanted to know where I'd been that day, where I was going to overnight, and how my Monday was going. And that's the reason I love some scant parts of this human race so much -- because of people like these guys. I could have breezed over it, continued right on in my flight attendant mode, and simply said "Fine, thank you." But I stopped, answered their questions, and turned around and ask them the same thing. That's how I choose to do business.
And yesterday was a sad day. My flight from San Jose to Seattle included a mother. A mom who was, perhaps, 50. Asking me for a cracker or little snack of some kind because she had not had a chance to eat yet. Honestly, these sorts of requests are fairly routine -- and I often give them something if I have it but sometimes I just wonder what in the world they are thinking -- if you're hungry, eat! Get up in time to actually get yourself a snack, for god's sake. Back to the Mom. She had a son in Seattle who was dying she tells me. Today. Yes, today. They were keeping him on life support only until she could get to the hospital in Seattle to say her goodbyes to him. I refused to make her turn off her cell phone when she should have been doing so. I guess it was her call to the nurse who was attending to her son that did it for me -- "Promise me that you're keeping him alive until I can get there....you are...right?" Yeah, she could pretty much do whatever she wanted and it would have been alright with me. She cried. I cried. I put my hand on her arm and told her that I would be thinking about her. She said she appreciated it and asked for my prayers. I promised. And off she went once we reached Seattle. To see her dying son. I suppose he's gone by now. A mother left alone. That's just not right.
And then the very next flight, another woman with a typed note on her passenger service record which read: "Her mother died today." Well golly gee now, just like that. Her mother had died and now she was on my flight trying to get to Ontario, California, to attend to her duties. She slept the whole way. Rightfully so.
I do my best to keep an open mind. I achieve it sometimes. I fail miserably many times. Part of the learning process, I presume.
J5EGPDS3AEJN
I have met some of the nicest people in my life. Today, I had a couple of guys actually ask me how my day was going. It's not that unusual, but fairly so. They were so friendly, polite and smiling. They wanted to know where I'd been that day, where I was going to overnight, and how my Monday was going. And that's the reason I love some scant parts of this human race so much -- because of people like these guys. I could have breezed over it, continued right on in my flight attendant mode, and simply said "Fine, thank you." But I stopped, answered their questions, and turned around and ask them the same thing. That's how I choose to do business.
And yesterday was a sad day. My flight from San Jose to Seattle included a mother. A mom who was, perhaps, 50. Asking me for a cracker or little snack of some kind because she had not had a chance to eat yet. Honestly, these sorts of requests are fairly routine -- and I often give them something if I have it but sometimes I just wonder what in the world they are thinking -- if you're hungry, eat! Get up in time to actually get yourself a snack, for god's sake. Back to the Mom. She had a son in Seattle who was dying she tells me. Today. Yes, today. They were keeping him on life support only until she could get to the hospital in Seattle to say her goodbyes to him. I refused to make her turn off her cell phone when she should have been doing so. I guess it was her call to the nurse who was attending to her son that did it for me -- "Promise me that you're keeping him alive until I can get there....you are...right?" Yeah, she could pretty much do whatever she wanted and it would have been alright with me. She cried. I cried. I put my hand on her arm and told her that I would be thinking about her. She said she appreciated it and asked for my prayers. I promised. And off she went once we reached Seattle. To see her dying son. I suppose he's gone by now. A mother left alone. That's just not right.
And then the very next flight, another woman with a typed note on her passenger service record which read: "Her mother died today." Well golly gee now, just like that. Her mother had died and now she was on my flight trying to get to Ontario, California, to attend to her duties. She slept the whole way. Rightfully so.
I do my best to keep an open mind. I achieve it sometimes. I fail miserably many times. Part of the learning process, I presume.
J5EGPDS3AEJN
Saturday, March 19, 2011
17 Years And Still Missing Him
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Sex, Drugs and Rock 'n Roll
I think that's how I responded to him when he asked what I was doing in the park and what I wanted. Washington Park, to be precise. Near the Fruit Loop but not actually in it. The park sits just above downtown Portland and is where Portland's world-class Rose Garden sits. Amazing views and a perfect place to spend the day wandering around -- in the Rose Gardens, not the Fruit Loop.
We began our friendship in this very way. I drove my rental car behind his Jeep as I followed him down the hill and into Northwest Portland to his apartment. I begin to spend my time in Portland with him ... and with other Portland friends. You see, I still lived in Boise, Idaho. I was still not out yet. And, glory be to the father son and holy ghost, I was still married...barely. To a woman, for those in disbelief. Michael was really my very first introduction into many things that I now take for granted. Like taking public transportation. Like drinking lattes. Like recycling. And watching PBS British Comedies. And walking instead of driving. And walking into a co-op instead of a grocery store. Like alternative thoughts against the modern mainstream Christian church that I was immersed in. And living with an indoor animal -- he had a cat, to which I was allergic -- in addition to not liking animals one little bit at that particular dark period in my life. Can you even imagine...me not liking animals?? Wild!
We continue our little tryst for numerous months on my visits to Portland. And I remember the night at home in Boise when I made up some excuse to sneak out of the house that I shared with my wife. I drove down to the Payless Drug Store and found a pay telephone (you remember those, don't you??). It was December, Christmas time. And it was snowing as I stood outside in the cold winter air making a pay call to Michael in Portland. To break the news to him. To be honest and tell him I was married. Remember, I still wasn't out yet. I had told no one that I was gay....he was the first person that I'd ever told. This phone call was a big deal -- I still hadn't learned how to live my life honestly yet at that point. He was nothing but understanding and continued helping me along this particularly rough patch of life's road over the next months. And it was when I returned from a trip at Michael's house when I found a little note in my bedroom in Boise. From my wife saying that it was over. And that's when the whole thing started going down -- I filed for divorce and came out. April 1997. Michael was there. Right there. A very good friend, indeed. And it was also during these same few months when my one-year-old niece (now 15!) found out that she had been born with a heart defect -- valves malfunctioning and missing parts of the septum in her heart. Michael went through this very scary time with me. And we were watching PBS British Comedies at his house late one Saturday night when his parents called to tell him that his brother had died. And there I was. Not knowing quite what to do. We were friends at some very difficult times in our lives. And then, just as fast as it started, it ended. Because of me. Because I was going through so much in a particularly small window of time in my life. And because Michael was telling me things about my church-going days of mainstream Christianity that I didn't want to hear. I remember he came to Boise the very month after I came out. He was the very first gay person that I introduced my mother to. Man oh man, I was so nervous.
Fast forward. To today. We were absent from one another's lives from May 1997 until about a year or two ago. Via Facebook, I found him. And sent him a message. And he responded with nothing but a positive spirit. I can't imagine the change that I've undergone from those times 13 years ago until today. He didn't know me as an out, gay man with strong leaning liberal tendencies and grey hair. He knew me as a scared, sort of out, unstable man who went to church every Sunday and didn't know what recycling was all about and didn't like badmouthing the Christian church. So, imagine my surprise last summer when LoverBoy and me were at one of Portland's free Summer Concerts in the Parks when Michael rolled up on his bicycle. Right up to us. After all of these years. To say hi.
We now see each other a bit. All of us. At our Tuesday Happy Hours. He has a couple of dogs. We have one. He has offered to doggy sit for us if we ever need it. It's been so nice to get reacquainted under better circumstances. He's become a good friend. And, believe it or not, LoverBoy and I are now die-hard fans of Saturday nights watching PBS British Comedies. Because of Michael.
We began our friendship in this very way. I drove my rental car behind his Jeep as I followed him down the hill and into Northwest Portland to his apartment. I begin to spend my time in Portland with him ... and with other Portland friends. You see, I still lived in Boise, Idaho. I was still not out yet. And, glory be to the father son and holy ghost, I was still married...barely. To a woman, for those in disbelief. Michael was really my very first introduction into many things that I now take for granted. Like taking public transportation. Like drinking lattes. Like recycling. And watching PBS British Comedies. And walking instead of driving. And walking into a co-op instead of a grocery store. Like alternative thoughts against the modern mainstream Christian church that I was immersed in. And living with an indoor animal -- he had a cat, to which I was allergic -- in addition to not liking animals one little bit at that particular dark period in my life. Can you even imagine...me not liking animals?? Wild!
We continue our little tryst for numerous months on my visits to Portland. And I remember the night at home in Boise when I made up some excuse to sneak out of the house that I shared with my wife. I drove down to the Payless Drug Store and found a pay telephone (you remember those, don't you??). It was December, Christmas time. And it was snowing as I stood outside in the cold winter air making a pay call to Michael in Portland. To break the news to him. To be honest and tell him I was married. Remember, I still wasn't out yet. I had told no one that I was gay....he was the first person that I'd ever told. This phone call was a big deal -- I still hadn't learned how to live my life honestly yet at that point. He was nothing but understanding and continued helping me along this particularly rough patch of life's road over the next months. And it was when I returned from a trip at Michael's house when I found a little note in my bedroom in Boise. From my wife saying that it was over. And that's when the whole thing started going down -- I filed for divorce and came out. April 1997. Michael was there. Right there. A very good friend, indeed. And it was also during these same few months when my one-year-old niece (now 15!) found out that she had been born with a heart defect -- valves malfunctioning and missing parts of the septum in her heart. Michael went through this very scary time with me. And we were watching PBS British Comedies at his house late one Saturday night when his parents called to tell him that his brother had died. And there I was. Not knowing quite what to do. We were friends at some very difficult times in our lives. And then, just as fast as it started, it ended. Because of me. Because I was going through so much in a particularly small window of time in my life. And because Michael was telling me things about my church-going days of mainstream Christianity that I didn't want to hear. I remember he came to Boise the very month after I came out. He was the very first gay person that I introduced my mother to. Man oh man, I was so nervous.
Fast forward. To today. We were absent from one another's lives from May 1997 until about a year or two ago. Via Facebook, I found him. And sent him a message. And he responded with nothing but a positive spirit. I can't imagine the change that I've undergone from those times 13 years ago until today. He didn't know me as an out, gay man with strong leaning liberal tendencies and grey hair. He knew me as a scared, sort of out, unstable man who went to church every Sunday and didn't know what recycling was all about and didn't like badmouthing the Christian church. So, imagine my surprise last summer when LoverBoy and me were at one of Portland's free Summer Concerts in the Parks when Michael rolled up on his bicycle. Right up to us. After all of these years. To say hi.
We now see each other a bit. All of us. At our Tuesday Happy Hours. He has a couple of dogs. We have one. He has offered to doggy sit for us if we ever need it. It's been so nice to get reacquainted under better circumstances. He's become a good friend. And, believe it or not, LoverBoy and I are now die-hard fans of Saturday nights watching PBS British Comedies. Because of Michael.
Monday, March 14, 2011
He's Gone
For the week, that is. He left last evening and will be home Thursday evening. Actually a very cool week of new work activities in Seattle -- working with the catering company that drives our food and supplies up to the doors of our aircraft and delivers them....streamlining the process. Really neat stuff. Nonetheless, I'm sorting through this mounting feeling of not liking him to be gone. And me not liking to be gone, either. I like us to be here. Together. At home. And I haven't always been this way. There was a day when I actually enjoyed being gone, for a break....to gain perspective. I mean, hey, we're both flight attendants. And that does involve travel in case you didn't know already.
I actually get a bit anxious over it. Nothing major. Just more sad or depressed, sort of. Weird for me. Perhaps its age. Perhaps its recentering and recognizing what is important in life and what is not. And I'm better this morning. Mason and I will be home all week by ourselves. I have several days off with nothing to do. And I do enjoy those sort of times. But there's just something about he and I being separated when big, monumental things happen like tsunamis or earthquakes or giant storms or airplanes crash. You know, those sort of little things. It makes me want to draw close to home. For safety or security reasons, I guess. I could go out to eat with friends, or the gym, or take a walk, or go to a movie, or go to one of Portland's million cool places for a drink or chat....but it just sort of rings hollow sometimes.
I used to treasure my time away. Enjoy it. Look forward to it. For a bit of breathing room, for space, for perspective. And I still do. But I'm really over it in many ways. Over being gone, over being in hotel rooms, over dressing up in blue polyester and disappearing on trips for days on end. Over eating in restaurants. I like home. And I like being home. And I like him being home. I think I'm getting old.
I actually get a bit anxious over it. Nothing major. Just more sad or depressed, sort of. Weird for me. Perhaps its age. Perhaps its recentering and recognizing what is important in life and what is not. And I'm better this morning. Mason and I will be home all week by ourselves. I have several days off with nothing to do. And I do enjoy those sort of times. But there's just something about he and I being separated when big, monumental things happen like tsunamis or earthquakes or giant storms or airplanes crash. You know, those sort of little things. It makes me want to draw close to home. For safety or security reasons, I guess. I could go out to eat with friends, or the gym, or take a walk, or go to a movie, or go to one of Portland's million cool places for a drink or chat....but it just sort of rings hollow sometimes.
I used to treasure my time away. Enjoy it. Look forward to it. For a bit of breathing room, for space, for perspective. And I still do. But I'm really over it in many ways. Over being gone, over being in hotel rooms, over dressing up in blue polyester and disappearing on trips for days on end. Over eating in restaurants. I like home. And I like being home. And I like him being home. I think I'm getting old.
Saturday, March 05, 2011
Facebook is our Glue
..."Facebook wants me to confirm my relationship.....there's no going back now!!"......
This was a modified Facebook status update from a friend of mine. I loved it. Facebook was asking her to confirm her relationship and then it would be published on her Facebook page for the entire world to see -- provided she doesn't have any settings restricting such observation. I had to laugh. And comment....that Facebook is the cement that holds all of our relationships together. God, we're a weird society. Funky. Strange. Odd. Somehow we've allowed Facebook to be our glue. The concrete. The end-all, be-all of our lives and relations. If we get pissed off at someone, we defriend them or block them or hide them (you'll have no idea what these phrases mean if you're not a Facebook crack whore). We get all riled up if someone won't be our friend on Facebook -- in spite of the fact that they are someone else's friend on Facebook. Boo hoo. Poor little weak things that we are.
And what about this on again, off again thing? I swear. I have a few friends who are "So and so's friend" one day and not the next. And then they are again. And then they are not again. Over and over. Honestly, I can think of one friend in particular who has been so-and-so's boyfriend I don't know how many times. And then she defriends him. And then she friends him again. Sort of like being friends on Facebook means anything. Or everything. Or nothing. Perhaps it's the knowing that someone likes us. Or wants us. Or loves us. Or none of the above. Personally, I think it's for the sex.
And Facebook is so new! It's not even a few years old and it has become life's only connection to making relationships work for some. What in the world did we do before Facebook? And why does it have to be the determining, sole source for making us feel good about who is our friend and who is not? I mean, hey, it's fun. It's entertaining. And an excellent way to get out news or word of an activity. But that's really about it. It's not like it makes any difference if I put my LoverBoy as my "domestic partner" or my "husband" or my "significant other" or my whatever.... He is, no matter what. No matter if it's on Facebook or not.
And I've had friends ask me why all I post about it Mason. Mason, Mason, Mason. That's all they ever see me posting about. So? So what? Are we keeping score, or a tally? It's really quite insignificant.
I think we're weak, thin, exhausting. As a people, a society, a globe. It's like the whole world is going to hell around us and all we have time to do is get worked up over Facebook and its innerworkings. Seriously, it's insignificant. Having said that, I'm on it all of the time. I do enjoy it. For fun. Not for drama, or work, or bickering, or long threads of going back and forth sorting out troubles, or being divisive (yes, I have been....), or for someone getting all bent out of shape over whether I friend them or not (I'll yank you off quickly if that's your game....).
It's just so entertaining. I get a kick out of the seriousness of it. Or the game of it. Or the lack of depth. I also think it demeans our one-on-one, in person relations. It cheapens them. It takes our attention away from them. And here's someone else's take on how Facebook destroys relationships.
This was a modified Facebook status update from a friend of mine. I loved it. Facebook was asking her to confirm her relationship and then it would be published on her Facebook page for the entire world to see -- provided she doesn't have any settings restricting such observation. I had to laugh. And comment....that Facebook is the cement that holds all of our relationships together. God, we're a weird society. Funky. Strange. Odd. Somehow we've allowed Facebook to be our glue. The concrete. The end-all, be-all of our lives and relations. If we get pissed off at someone, we defriend them or block them or hide them (you'll have no idea what these phrases mean if you're not a Facebook crack whore). We get all riled up if someone won't be our friend on Facebook -- in spite of the fact that they are someone else's friend on Facebook. Boo hoo. Poor little weak things that we are.
And what about this on again, off again thing? I swear. I have a few friends who are "So and so's friend" one day and not the next. And then they are again. And then they are not again. Over and over. Honestly, I can think of one friend in particular who has been so-and-so's boyfriend I don't know how many times. And then she defriends him. And then she friends him again. Sort of like being friends on Facebook means anything. Or everything. Or nothing. Perhaps it's the knowing that someone likes us. Or wants us. Or loves us. Or none of the above. Personally, I think it's for the sex.
And Facebook is so new! It's not even a few years old and it has become life's only connection to making relationships work for some. What in the world did we do before Facebook? And why does it have to be the determining, sole source for making us feel good about who is our friend and who is not? I mean, hey, it's fun. It's entertaining. And an excellent way to get out news or word of an activity. But that's really about it. It's not like it makes any difference if I put my LoverBoy as my "domestic partner" or my "husband" or my "significant other" or my whatever.... He is, no matter what. No matter if it's on Facebook or not.
And I've had friends ask me why all I post about it Mason. Mason, Mason, Mason. That's all they ever see me posting about. So? So what? Are we keeping score, or a tally? It's really quite insignificant.
I think we're weak, thin, exhausting. As a people, a society, a globe. It's like the whole world is going to hell around us and all we have time to do is get worked up over Facebook and its innerworkings. Seriously, it's insignificant. Having said that, I'm on it all of the time. I do enjoy it. For fun. Not for drama, or work, or bickering, or long threads of going back and forth sorting out troubles, or being divisive (yes, I have been....), or for someone getting all bent out of shape over whether I friend them or not (I'll yank you off quickly if that's your game....).
It's just so entertaining. I get a kick out of the seriousness of it. Or the game of it. Or the lack of depth. I also think it demeans our one-on-one, in person relations. It cheapens them. It takes our attention away from them. And here's someone else's take on how Facebook destroys relationships.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
The Recap
Overwhelmed....to say the least. My fingers were busy, busy, busy all day yesterday answering text messages, listening to voice mails, hitting "like" on Facebook wall posts, and checking my own blog comments. I'm exhausted. You all pulled through like champs. You definitely made me a happy boy and reminded me of how many people love me and have chosen to include me in their lives. Thank You! The Recap includes:
- Close to 150 Facebook wall posts.
- 35 text messages including one whose predictive text told me "Happy Birthday my DEAD friend" instead of "Dear" friend. Yikes. He was not happy. I laughed.
- 10 voice messages -- including one from France!
- 17 comments on my birthday blog post.
- Flying right over the top of Mount Rainier and Mount Saint Helens on a clear winter morning.
- Having several of my coworkers and friends buy my dinner and/or lunch treats for me.
- Having numerous passengers tell me "Happy Birthday."
- Reading through my cards when I arrived home by myself.
- Spotting a dark chocolate bar and yummy candle on the counter when I arrived home.
- Watching a flock of geese fly over the top of me while I walked Mason.
- The winter sunshine as I watched the long shadows of the day begin to form.
- Getting home and seeing my LoverBoy and Pooch!
- Checking out a super nifty evening sunset to put my day to rest in fine fashion--thanks Mindy!
- Eating ice cream and Sun Chips.
Friday, February 18, 2011
49 and Counting
Some days it feels like I've learned a little something in my life. Other days, I wouldn't count on my knowing anything. There are days I feel like I'm on top of the world and other times that I feel like I should return to the starting point in my life and give it another go. I began 2011 with this list of commitments to my own life. Some are going better than others. I'm grateful to be alive and thankful for all of my many friends who keep me going and put up with my shortcomings. But I'm most thankful for my partner who has endeared himself to me over the years. And who has easily taught me how to endear myself to him. He is nothing short of life's greatest blessing. I cannot imagine this life without him.
Today, I do what I've done for a few years now....post my mobile number for the masses to use....for a short time. I know, I know....call me crazy. I'd love a text or voice message or picture. But please remember to tell me who it is so that I'll know who the message is from. I've heard from so many of you on my birthday for several years now. I can't wait to see how many messages I can get this year. So, here you go, use me and abuse me for today only -- XXXXXXXX.
And because it's my birthday, I get to do what I want. And what I want is for the world to be a nicer and better place to exist. I want for world peace, but who doesn't. I want sick people to be healed. I want mean people to go away....and the crazy people too. That's all I want. Easy, simple, doable. Oh, and I want a piece of birthday cake too.....with ice cream.
Thanks to you all for making my birthday, and this world, a much better place to be in. I love you all dearly.
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